There’s a small bowling alley in our town. Twelve lanes. Smoking still allowed. Furnishings from that great decade of design, the seventies. Formica with built in stainless steel cup holders and ashtrays. Molded plastic seats. But my kids wanted to go and on Fridays from 6-10 PM you can bowl two games, get a hot dog and a “pop” and shoes for $5. Now that’s a deal I can afford.
My kids then proceeded to kick my butt in bowling. I haven’t bowled since junior high so I scored in the um, 60s. My son’s unusual method of taking the ball in both hands, heaving it down the lane like a shot put, and then walking away still scored him in the 80s and a strike. My daughter won with a score of 113 and three strikes. Oh, and did I mention we were playing with those bumpers they put up so you don’t get gutter balls? Um, yeah. Obviously bowling is not my sport.
However, I rallied in the second game when I switched to bowling left handed. Never got any strikes but I managed a few spares and scored 110. My son lost interest during the second game and wandered around checking out the video games and pinball (yes, pinball) machines. So Sissy and I took turns playing his frames.